


Blush

by ficsandcatsandficsandcats



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:41:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23993212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficsandcatsandficsandcats/pseuds/ficsandcatsandficsandcats
Summary: Reader Request: Reader and Jask have a competition to see who can make the other blush first?
Relationships: Jaskier | Dandelion/Reader
Kudos: 19





	Blush

Your hands were crossed in front of you, resting gently on the table. Jaskier’s posed mimicked yours from the other side of the table, eyes locked on yours. You sat there in utter silence until Geralt came in.

“What the fuck is this?” he asked brusquely.

“We’re waiting to see who blinks first,” you answered. Geralt glanced at the pair of you out of the corner of his eye and then walked over and unceremoniously dropped one of his swords on the table, landing with a crash that startled you both.

“There. You both lose,” Geralt said, and stalked away to finish taking off his armor for the night.

“Rude,” Jaskier mumbled.

“It’s fine, Jaskier, I was going to win anyway,” you teased. He scoffed.

“It was a silly game anyway!”

“Well how do you suggest we pass the time?” you asked. He looked at you for a just a beat too long and you dropped your gaze to the sword.

“I have an idea,” he said, and you knew from his tone that it would be nothing but trouble. Still, undaunted, you raised your eyes to his again, refusing to balk under their mischievous twinkle.

“Similar to the last game but instead of the loser being the one who blinks first, it’s the one who blushes first,” he explained.

“Game,” you said, his cocky grin pushing you to accept the challenge though you felt nervous. Jaskier had always been good at unsettling you and making you blush, often without intending to or realizing his impact. But you were bound and determined to wipe that smirk off his face and when you set your mind to something you were fierce in its pursuit. “When do we start?”

“Oh, love,” he said, the word rolling off of his tongue, honey sweet on his forked tongue, “It’s already started.”

“Is that the best you have?” you asked, scoffing.

“Oh when you’ve seen my best you’ll know,” he said, his voice low and fraught with meaning.

“You have pretty hands,” you said, fighting to take control of your face and the conversation.

“What?”

“Your hands. They’re rather beautiful,” you pulled his hands into yours and traced the veins, the knuckles, the callouses from years of performing.

“Your fingers are so nimble, I love to watch how they pull beautiful music from your lute. You always keep your nails so well maintained, trimmed short, very thoughtful of you, really,” you said, your fingers tracing the lines in his palm, focusing on the hands in front of you and not the face that stared at you incredulously. You gently brushed your hands across his palms, entwining your fingers between his until your hands were palm to palm, pressed together like a kiss.

“So big,” you repeated, your voice as soft as a sigh. Finally you dared a glance over the fingertips into Jaskier’s eyes.

“Oh, are you feeling alright Jaskier?” you asked.

“Hmm?” he asked.

“You’re just looking a little flushed is all,” you said, removing your hands and folding them in front of you on the table again.

“What! No!” he protested.

“Oh you get even redder when I win, does that do it for you, Jaskier? Having a woman come out on top?”

He rose from the table in a huff and you watched as he stormed off towards the rooms. You silently offered an apology to Geralt who would likely have to hear about this all night.

You grew worried when you didn’t see Jaskier the rest of the evening and you finally went to check on him, half-afraid Geralt had killed him to cease his complaining.

“Come in,” the voice of a seemingly alive Jaskier answered. You opened the door and peeked your head in. He was sitting perched on the windowsill, one long leg hanging off the side while the other held him aloft, pressed against the frame of the window. He had taken off his doublet and the fading sun highlighted the silhouette of his frame through the thin undershirt.

“I was beginning to worry you had died of mortification,” you said teasingly. He shook his head, a wry smile on his lips and then looked back towards you. There was something different in the way he looked at you. Something had changed since earlier.

“Come here,” he said, the words an order but the tone a request and you did as you were told, trying not to think too hard about how much you enjoyed that. The door shut behind you with a faint click and you crossed the room and stood before him.

“Are you feeling alright Jaskier?” you asked, an echo of your earlier words but this time in earnest.

“Do you really like my hands?” he asked, holding them up and catching a handful of sunlight as he did.

“Yes,” you said, eyes traveling down the curve of his wrist bones and the exposed forearm, usually obscured by his now rolled sleeves.

“What else do you like, Y/N? What other secrets have you been keeping?” he asked.

“What?” you asked, pulling your gaze back to his face.

“You heard me,” he said.

“It wasn’t a secret I was keeping it was just… a fact I felt irrelevant,” you said. He nodded.

“That’s one question down, now the other,” he said.

“I mean, I like all of you, Jaskier. We’re friends,” you answered evasively.

“Friends don’t look like friends that way,” he challenged.

“Like what?”

“Like how I’m looking at you right now,” he answered, his gaze penetrating and more serious than you’d ever seen it before. It scared you and it excited you in equal measure. “Like how you look at me when you think I’m not looking.”

You swallowed hard and tried to ignore the slight trembling in your hands that shook worse as you watched his eyes fall to them, knowing that he was fully aware of the effect he had on you.

“So,” you said, “What of it? What now?”

He stepped down from the window, pulling himself up to his full height and pressing up close against you. He bent his head down to your ear to whisper the words.

“Now, I win.”


End file.
